


The Serpent and Tommy Joe

by MindNoise



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, I'm terrible with summaries, but this involves Tommy, Adam, New Orleans, and voodoo. It's a tad on the dark side. Read on!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Serpent and Tommy Joe

Tommy plops down on the stone step and surveys the street. Royal Street, that is. With all its art galleries, restaurants, and tourist shops, Tommy figures it’s as good a street as any to play his guitar and appeal to the cultured masses touring New Orleans during the day. Tonight he’ll relocate to Bourbon Street where the tourists get drunk and become even freer with their money. He watches the crowds as he situates himself and his guitar. Being a street musician isn’t anybody’s lifelong dream, at least he doesn’t think so, but at least he’s a musician.

Tommy left home a month ago, tired of his 9-5 job and refusing to be pressured into college. Those things were fine for other people, but not for Tommy Joe. All he wants, all he’s ever wanted is to play guitar, and he doesn’t care where or for whom. So he tacked up a map of the United States on his wall, closed his eyes, and threw a dart at it. The dart landed in the Gulf of Mexico, so Tommy compromised and chose the closest state near it – Louisiana, which was most famous for The Big Easy. He’d never been this far south until he came to New Orleans. He immediately despised the humidity. And the mutant bugs. But New Orleans was different from other cities, made up of wayward residents who didn’t fit in anywhere else in the world. Life in Nawlins, as the natives called it, was a constant festival of music, food, and genuine soul. He spent time in Jackson Square taking in the jazz musicians, tarot card readers, street dancers, and art for sale hanging from the black iron gates. It’s a unique corner of the world, and Tommy felt bonded with it right away.

Sitting on a stone step in front of a closed shop, he strums his guitar. He leaves the case open so passersby can donate if they like what he plays. And they usually do. Between Royal Street during the day and Bourbon Street at night, Tommy cleans up around $250 per day. It’s enough to keep him fed and sheltered in a small room over on Dauphine Street. It’s not making him rich by any means, but he’s taking care of himself and doing what he loves and that’s enough for now. After warming up the strings and his fingers, he begins playing actual songs. He’s found that crowds love blues tunes, which works for Tommy since he loves playing the blues.

He concentrates on his guitar, on the music he’s making, glancing up every so often when money is dropped into his guitar case. People stop in groups, milling around him for a while, listening to him play, sometimes applauding, and then moving on. Tommy likes playing all different songs, not just blues. He changes it up between blues, rock, and even some current pop songs on the radio. An hour later, he launches into a reggae song, Is This Love. It’s a nice, laid back tune, and he plays it with ease. He doesn’t notice until the middle of the song that someone standing near him is singing the lyrics. He looks up at the dark haired man standing a few feet away lending his voice to Tommy’s guitar. The singer looks as into the music as Tommy, which makes him smile. The man smiles back at him, moving closer, his voice rising with confidence. He stands next to Tommy, facing the crowd now gathering and lets loose on the song. Tommy strengthens his playing to keep up with him. The crowd is growing larger, people start swaying to the music and the rhythm of the lyrics, and Tommy feels like he’s really part of something in this moment. More people are dropping money into his case, and Tommy begins embellishing the music, just a little, not too much. He looks up at his singer who winks down at him and matches his voice to the notes. Tommy laughs. When the song is done, the crowd applauds and it’s the loudest applause he’s gotten since he’s been here.

“That was great,” the man says, leaning down. “Do you know any Queen?”

“Hell yeah I know Queen,” Tommy replies and launches into Dragon Attack.

An hour later, Tommy stands up to stretch. His bony ass hurts from sitting on the stone for so long, but looking at the cash in his guitar case, it was more than worth it. He turns to his singer.

“You’re an excellent player,” the man says. “Adam.”

Tommy shakes his hand, “Tommy. Holy shit, your voice is unreal, man!”

Adam laughs and dips his head. “Thanks. I hope you don’t mind I just jumped in on your scene here.”

“Not at all,” Tommy says. He looks to the case littered with money, the best sight he’s seen all day. “Looks like we make a pretty good team.”

He bends down to sort the cash. “Let’s split this up.”

Adam puts up his hands. “No, that’s yours.”

“No way, dude, you earned half of it,” Tommy says.

“It’s yours,” Adam tells him again.

“No, we earned this together,” Tommy insists.

“Tommy, I want you to keep it. Really,” Adam says.        

Tommy sighs. He doesn’t feel right about keeping all of it when he didn’t earn it all by himself.

“At least let me buy you a drink or lunch or something,” he says.

“Deal,” Adam laughs. “How about The Ruby Slipper up on Canal?”

“Lead the way,” Tommy says, picking up his guitar case and slipping the strap onto his shoulder.

 

Later, Tommy Joe finds himself seated on Bourbon Street with Adam standing next to him belting out more Queen as well as other artists. Bourbon Street is the French Quarter hot spot. The street is blocked off in late afternoon at both ends so traffic won’t run over drunken tourists wandering around in the road. Bourbon has a life of its own, loaded with booze, fluorescent lights, sex clubs, and voodoo shops. People painted in silver stand still as statues changing positions every ten minutes, strippers stand outside clubs enticing people inside to spend money, beads fly off balconies at those willing to show enough skin, signs are held up announcing a place that has Huge Ass Beers. It fascinates Tommy every time he walks down it at night. The pace of Bourbon is frantic and intense from dusk until dawn and not for the faint of heart. Despite the noise of the street, Adam’s voice soars and people stop to listen and drop money into the guitar case next to Tommy. They’d discussed random life events over lunch, and Tommy suggested they try their new routine on Bourbon that night. So far it’s working out well. He wishes Adam would take a cut of the money, though. He guesses if he has to keep taking Adam out to eat and for drinks instead, well he could live with that. Adam’s easy going, easy to talk to, and easy on the eyes.

After seven songs, Adam deems this “set” over and request people come back in fifteen minutes for more. Tommy sets down his guitar. He grabs up the money, pockets it, and closes the case. Turning back he sees Adam talking enthusiastically to three guys. Feeling an unexpected twinge of jealousy Tommy sizes them up. They’re tall and built, obvious gym buffs, dressed in shorts and unbuttoned polo shirts - a far cry from Tommy Joe who’s short and lanky with no ass to hold up his worn, faded jeans. He turns away again and fiddles with his guitar and case, setting them aside, making sure they’re out of the way of pedestrian traffic. He takes his time about it and hopes Adam’s done talking soon. He feels awkward. He briefly panics at the thought that Adam may go off with them and leave Tommy alone like he’s a charity case to which he’s loaned his voice and time, like Tommy’s a nobody. He stays hunched over his guitar and checks the strings. Adam’s shoes appear in his line of vision on the pavement and he looks up. The brawny guys have moved to the other side of the street, still eyeing Adam with big grins.

“This is going well,” Adam states, and Tommy agrees. “So would you be okay with just going for another hour and calling it a night?”

Tommy swallows. Obviously Adam has made plans with the guys across the street. He’s disappointed.

“Oh sure,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “I mean, I don’t wanna keep you from any plans you have.”

“Great,” Adam says. “Have you ever been down to Pat O’Briens?”

Standing, Tommy shakes his head. He’s been by it, he knows it’s a bar, but he’s never gone inside. He doesn’t drink so much anymore now that his money has to be concentrated on rent and food. When he does drink he just buys a case of beer or a bottle of whiskey and goes home. No need to pay $10 per drink in a bar.

“How about we go after we’re done?” Adam asks.

Tommy nods, “Okay.” Well if he has to spend the evening sharing Adam with those three guys, he guesses he will, as long as he’s hanging out with Adam. He supposes he can afford a couple of beers tonight. And he’s not ready to let Adam go yet.

Adam’s smile falters. “If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. It’s a piano bar, you might like it. I’ll buy the drinks.”

Tommy waves a hand. “You don’t need to buy me drinks, but yeah, I’d love to go.”

“You sure?” Adam asks, his smile returning. “You don’t look too thrilled.”

Tommy smiles. “Of course I’m sure. Sounds fun.”

 

Seated at a table in the small piano bar, Tommy sips his second Hurricane. He downed the first one quickly and it went straight to his head. Loving the tingly feeling in his legs, he gulped down half of his second Hurricane.

“Easy,” Adam laughs. “That drink can be lethal if you’re not used to it.”

Tommy’s having a great time. He’s relaxed, got a warm glow in his stomach from the alcohol, and a pretty damn sexy guy sitting next to him. Also, no burly guys in sight. It’s just Adam and him.

Maybe you should slow down on the drinks, he thinks with sudden clarity. Adam’s an amazing person, but you’ve known him less than 24 hours.

He shoves his drink back and looks at Adam.

“So how come you’re not in Hollywood blowing up studios with your voice?” Tommy asks.

Adam shrugs. “Maybe later. Right now I’m here.”

Tommy giggles, feeling the rational voice in his mind drown again in alcohol.

“That’s so fucking vague,” Tommy says candidly, and Adam laughs loudly.

Tommy gulps his drink again, feeling bolder. “I thought you had plans with those guys from earlier.”

“What guys?” Adam asks.

“Those guys,” Tommy explains. “From earlier… big dudes with the preppy clothes and… all bulked out from the gym or some shit…”

Adam laughs again. “Oh my god, you’re priceless.”

Tommy feels his face redden and he’s glad it’s dark in here. He also loves Adam’s laugh so he laughs too.

“No, I did not make plans with them,” Adam says.

“Why not?” Tommy asks, genuinely curious.

“Not my type at all,” Adam answers.

“Not your type?” Tommy repeats, slurring his words. “What’s your type?”

Adam leans in. “Pretty, tiny, and blond.”

 

They crash through the door of Adam’s apartment, Adam greedily licking into Tommy’s mouth. They’d walked to Adam’s place in relative silence, and it was slightly awkward yet almost familiar. Once in the small courtyard, Adam pointed Tommy up the steps leading to his door. When Tommy reached the top of the stairs, he turned to Adam, the frantic kiss mutual and intense as Adam pushed him backwards into the apartment, gripping Tommy hard around his waist. Tommy’s feet don’t touch the floor until Adam sets him down by the bed. He immediately strips off his shirt while Adam unbuttons his jeans. When Tommy’s fully naked, Adam turns him around and pushes him facedown onto the bed, lying over top of him. Tommy lifts his ass into Adam’s groin. Adam grips his cheeks, massaging them and plants kisses down his spine, nibbling his lower back which sends a shiver through Tommy. For a brief moment Adam’s touch disappears and Tommy almost panics, but he relaxes again when he feels wet fingers pushing in. He squirms as Adam works him open, reaching back to touch Adam and finding him still clothed. He whines, tugging on the fabric. Adam’s touch retreats again and Tommy feels slightly cold. When he lays himself back over Tommy they’re skin to skin, and Tommy sighs.

Adam pushes in and Tommy gasps. He wasn’t prepared for Adam to be so damn big. Adam didn’t prep him much either and the short thrusts are sharp and they burn, but Tommy melts into it anyway. He grips the bed cover in his fists, holding on, keeping his hips still as Adam drives in. It’s over too soon, Adam coming with a harsh grunt. Before Tommy can register disappointment at the short duration, Adam rolls him over and settles on top of him. He kisses Tommy softly, gently pushing his hips into him. The slide makes Tommy’s cock ache and he clutches Adam’s hips, urging him to move harder. Adam shifts Tommy’s legs, widening them, and slides into him again. He smiles at the surprised look on Tommy’s face that he’s hard again so soon. Tommy’s surprise quickly diminishes as Adam sets a steady, easy rhythm, focused on Tommy’s pleasure.

This is more like it, he thinks, smiling.

He wraps himself around Adam, locking his arms and legs, and nuzzling his face into Adam’s neck. Adam holds him firmly, and Tommy can feel himself being absorbed. It’s amazing. He stares at Adam’s face, floating on the high being driven into him. Adam smiles slyly and Tommy gasps as the pressure building in his groin as it becomes a solid thing crawling through him. He clutches at Adam’s arms, his body squirming against yet into the pleasure. It’s painful and so good at the same time. He lets out a keening wail that he’s not in control of when he comes, his body arching into Adam when he feels Adam come a second time. He feels limp and fuzzy and warm all over, inside and out. Adam swipes a hand over Tommy’s stomach, scooping up the fluid there. Leaning over, Adam puts it into a glass on the bedside table, scraping his fingers on the rim. Tommy stares at it strangely as it dribbles down the side of the glass.

“What the fuck are…” he starts.

Adam places a hand over his eyes and whispers, “Sleep, Tommy.”

Tommy drops into unconsciousness.

 

He dreams. He doesn’t understand any of it. Although the images fill him with wonder, they also fill him with dread. He hears drums in the distance, congo drums. Why would he be dreaming of congo drums? The rhythm is steady and persistent, echoing through his head. Candles appear all around him, white, tall, their flames high and bright. It hurts to look directly into their light. Adam in white pants and a deep purple shirt is kneeling on the ground, setting down a plate. It’s full of candy, lump sugar, plums, and grapes. A large snake slithers by quietly. The glass with Tommy’s come is beside him, and Adam picks it up, pours the fluid in the center of the food. He strikes a match and touches it to a plum and the contents of the plate catch fire. As they burn, Adam smacks the ground with his hand. One. Two. Three. The snake winds around a candle. He hears the sound of a shovel striking dirt and turns his head. He sees an open grave. He doesn’t want to look in it, but his feet carry him over to the hole. With dread he looks down. The coffin is open and empty and he breathes a short sigh of relief. The congo drums beat louder, closer. He blinks and plunges into complete darkness. Disoriented, he reaches out but his hands come in contact with something above him. He feels the limited space around him and realizes he’s now in the coffin. Dirt hits the lid and he begins to beat on it. His throat closes as a scream builds and the sound of dirt falling on the lid grows heavier. He has to get out, someone has to know he’s in here. He’s being buried alive. His fingers curl into the wood, shoving splinters under his nails. He forces his throat to open and take a deep breath, and is standing by Adam again, the sound of dirt falling on wood replaced by the drums. Adam pulls gold coins from his pocket and places four evenly around the plate. He moves with complete reverence, and Tommy realizes this is an offering. And a request for something. And it has something to do with him. The drums beat inside his brain so loudly his eyes start to twitch with each beat. He looks down at his feet at the snake curled around them. He looks up. Adam is watching him.

What are you? he thinks.

 

Tommy awakens slowly, pulling painfully out of his dream. His head aches, his mouth is dry, and his muscles feel heavy. He looks around, wondering where the hell he is, the remembers the night before. He looks at the beside table. The glass there is empty. Of course it is. The idea of Adam scraping his come into the glass is absurd. It couldn’t have happened. It must’ve been part of his weird nightmare.

He looks around the room. No Adam. He lays his head back on the pillow, thinking about the dream that’s quickly fading as dreams so often do. It was just a weird dream brought on by too many Hurricanes and moving way too fast with a total stranger all in one day. He rubs his eyes and moves his limbs to wake up. By the time he’s up and dressed there is still no sign of Adam. He wonders if he should stay. Would Adam want him to stay? Or would it be awkward? Would they want to see each other again? Or was this a one night stand? Tommy leaves, wincing at the sunlight as he closes the door behind him. The sun seems brighter than usual. It sure as hell doesn’t help his headache any. He slips on his sunglasses and starts down the stairs and through the courtyard.

It’s a week before he sees Adam again. After leaving Adam’s place, he went back to his own and sequestered himself inside until the next day. He slept heavily off and on, only getting up to drink water when the dehydration was overwhelming. Moving around made him too hot, staying still made him too cold. It was just easier not to move. He huddled under blankets, wondering if he had the flu. When the sun rose the next day he felt normal again, and he got back out in the French Quarter and played. It felt different, though. He felt different. Adam had made a definite impression on his life and it felt sort of empty without him, sort of lost. Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The day he had with Adam was fun, the sex was fantastic, but they were still strangers. Yeah, if they got to know each other, it might be an amazing relationship. Instead, Adam disappeared as fast a fucking possible, he reminded himself.

It’s a good thing that Tommy’s fingers know the guitar chords well because Tommy is lost in his own mind as he plays. He can’t seem to shake Adam out of his system. He wonders if anyone has ever been driven insane by a one night stand. He looks down at his open guitar case. There’s not a lot of money in it but a fair amount. He finishes his song, then begins to pack up, deciding he’s done for now. Maybe he’ll feel more into it later tonight, but at the moment he feels too separated from the world. A shadow falls over his guitar as he places it in its case. His heart thuds with panic and suddenly he can’t breathe. The dream of being buried alive washes over him and he nearly screams. And as quickly as it comes, it’s gone. So is the shadow. He turns around. There’s nobody there, no one standing over him, nothing unusual behind him. He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to gather his wits before he starts home. By the time he reaches his room he’s decided to confront Adam.

 

He stands outside Adam’s door, too nervous to knock. It was a one night stand. Adam clearly didn’t want to see him again, so why is he here? Before he can make up his mind to either knock or walk away the door opens. Adam doesn’t look surprised to find him there. In fact, he looks thrilled.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, pulling Tommy into a hug.

The dread, confusion, and loss plaguing Tommy all week drain out of him in that embrace. He feels comfort. Adam releases him and ushers him inside.

“I’m so sorry about the last time you were here,” Adam begins. “I went out for something that morning, I thought I’d be back before you woke, but you were gone when I returned.”

“Oh,” Tommy answers. “That was a week ago, so...”

Adam nods, then his eyes widen. “Oh god you must think... Tommy, it was not a one night stand. I had to leave on a trip that day. You were gone when I came home, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you about it. I just got back last night. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy’s brain works through the explanation, thinking it’s perfectly valid, yet convenient and common. Why is he even here? How did he reach the decision to come here? He can’t remember. He’s supposed to confront Adam, but he can’t remember why. Adam is still staring at him, so he decides he’d better say something.

“It’s okay,” he states. His simple, flat answer confuses him. He thought he had more to say, but he can’t recall it.

“It’s not okay,” Adam says. “What you must think of me. Let me make it up to you. Sit, I’ll get us some food and wine, and we’ll talk.”

Tommy isn’t really in the mood for food and wine and certainly not for idle talk. He suddenly feels the need to leave. Not just leave, run. As soon as the tiny thought hits his brain it’s vanquished. He smiles at Adam and sits.

When Adam returns and sets down the plate, Tommy feels a weird sense of deja vu. The dish is loaded with plums, grapes, lump sugar, all coated in brandy. He can smell the alcohol mixing with the sugar and it smells delicious. Adam sets down the wine and glasses, and sits next to him on the sofa.

“Eat,” Adam commands.

Tommy picks up a plum and hesitantly bites into it. When the brandy and sweet plum juice hit his taste buds, he nearly moans. The combination is vibrant, warm, and intoxicating. He takes a more enthusiastic bite and relaxes back. Adam smiles, his eyes sparkling.

“Have you heard the story of The Serpent and the Rainbow?” Adam asks. He continues when Tommy shakes his head no. “It’s an origin story, very old. There was a Great Serpent with seven thousand coils lying beneath the earth. As the Serpent rose and moved, it’s motions created the universe. Each movement released a different element, the stars, the sun, stones, lightening, the essence of life. When he released water, the sun shone through it creating the Rainbow. The Rainbow was so beautiful and perfect and bright. The Serpent loved the Rainbow dearly. He made the Rainbow his mate to rule with him over the earth. Together they are the balance of life.”

Tommy finds the story strange, but most creation stories are strange. A rainbow marrying a snake. What culture did that belong to? He opens his mouth to ask, but he suddenly feels dizzy. He closes his eyes, opens them again, and looks down at the plate before him. The plate of food he’s already dreamed of and feels dread come upon him. The room shifts, taking on a dreamlike quality, and Tommy’s vision swims. Adam gets up and goes into his bedroom. Tommy tries again to say something, but the words won’t form. His limbs feel heavy and he really wants to sleep right now. Adam returns and Tommy would scream if he could, but his throat has closed up. He has to concentrate just to breathe right now. Adam is wearing the white pants and purple shirt that he’d had on in Tommy’s dream. He kneels in front of Tommy and sets down a clay jar, a knife, and a small bowl with a brown powder in it.

“Since the age of its conception,” Adam begins as he removes Tommy’s shoes and socks. “Voodoo has been ruled by women, priestesses, queens. The queen has always been held in the most high regard and always had the most power. She’s the prominent one. Well that’s going to change.”

He sets aside Tommy’s shoes and socks and picks up the knife. Tommy realizes that he definitely can’t move. He feels drunk, dead drunk, and his limbs will not cooperate even though his brain is screaming for them to.

Won’t cooperate or can’t? he wonders. He whimpers but it comes out as a strangled squeak.

“Please don’t be afraid, Tommy,” Adam tells him. He cuts the sole of Tommy’s foot with the knife. It’s not a long or very deep cut, but it stings. Tommy’s brain registers the pain, but his muscles don’t even flinch.

“I will be the first Voodoo King who reigns,” Adam says. “No more queens, their time has passed. They’ve let it all fall into ruin and practically die out. People aren’t even afraid of us anymore. It’s my turn now. I will make this religion live again.”

He scoops the powder out of the bowl and rubs it into the cut on the bottom of Tommy’s foot. It burns, and the sensation slides through his blood stream with lightning speed. Adam gently kisses the top of Tommy’s foot.

“I need a mate,” Adam continues. “The moment I saw you I knew that you were my Rainbow, and I want my mate with me.”

Tommy can feel himself floating, like he’s in a dream. His body is on the couch, but he’s drifting somewhere above it. His control is gone. His own will disappears. He feels his respiration slow, his heart beat going quieter, his skin growing colder. His mind is alive and aware and screaming, but his body feels dead.

“I’m afraid I still didn’t tell you where I was this past week,” Adam says, and gestures to the bowl. “I was making this powder for your coup poudre. The formula is very old, brought over from Haiti. It’s made up of several plants, bones from a grave, and it takes a while to make. You have to watch over it yet stand clear of it. It’s commonly referred to as a zombie potion.”

What the actual fuck? Tommy thinks. Zombie potion? You’ve watched far too many fucking movies, dude. I’m no zombie. Even if I can’t move, I’m not dead and I’m not stumbling around eating brains.

“Technically, that’s what you are now,” Adam continues as though he can hear Tommy’s thoughts. “If a doctor examined you right now, he’d pronounce you dead and send you to the morgue. You wouldn’t be able to tell him you’re alive. Much different from the Hollywood horror fiction notion of zombies, as you can see.”

Tommy’s mind flashes to his dream, of being in the coffin, hearing the dirt hit the lid. Being buried alive.

“You’re not dead, though, don’t worry,” Adam assures him. “Your mind is still your own, it’s just no longer in control. Make no mistake, you belong to me.”

Adam reaches for the clay jar and opens the lid. He looks at Tommy, a gleam in his eye, and it’s no look of love. It’s a look of control, of power.

“Tommy,” Adam says. “Tommy. Tommy.”

He feels a piece of himself split and become lost to him. Adam replaces the lid on top of the jar and regards it lovingly.

“Half your soul is mine now,” he says.

Tommy can’t even feel the tear sliding down his cheek. His body has become completely anesthetized. He doesn’t understand why this is happening. Why did Adam choose him? He’s a modern guy, he would’ve heard out Adam’s religious spiel about voodoo and maybe he would’ve helped him get this voodoo throne he was for whatever reason craving, but this.... How did it come to this? Then he realizes, he may be Adam’s mate in all this, but Adam plans on making more zombies. And harming others isn’t something Tommy is willing to do.

Then again, you no longer have a will of your own, he reminds himself.

Adam gets up and walks into the bedroom. Tommy hears him moving around, a door shut and a lock click into place. He assumes Adam locked away his soul.

“Tommy,” Adam calls. “Come to bed.”

Tommy rises and does what he’s told.

**Author's Note:**

> The research for this was fascinating, of course. I heart New Orleans a great deal, love being there, and voodoo is all over the place there. If you're interested, I read The Serpent and the Rainbow by Wade Davis (focuses on zombification), and Voodoo in New Orleans by Robert Tallant. I also spoke with a voodoo priest in New Orleans several years ago, which was so damn cool.


End file.
